


Alone Together

by SlyKing



Series: 50 Kisses Challenge [5]
Category: Downton Abbey
Genre: 50 kisses challenge, Hopeful Ending, Introspection, Jimmy Kent is sweet, Loneliness, Lonely Thomas, M/M, On a falling tear, Suicidal Thoughts, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:40:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28159908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SlyKing/pseuds/SlyKing
Summary: Yet he often dreams of it. He dreams of holding those hands in his own hands. Of putting his hand on that cheek. To pass his fingers over that arrogant mouth. To play with those blond curls. To squeeze that body against his. To place his lips on this welcoming skin. He dreams of being able to say sweet words to him. Kindness that only he would be entitled to expect, to receive. He dreams of taking his hand in secret under the table, of sharing this taboo, of braver it, together.Above all, not to be alone.
Relationships: Thomas Barrow/Jimmy Kent
Series: 50 Kisses Challenge [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2013721
Comments: 4
Kudos: 25





	Alone Together

**Author's Note:**

> 50 Kisses Challenge - 5. On a falling tear
> 
> English is NOT my first langage!
> 
> Sorry for the grammar or conjugation errors that may result... Feel free to report any mistake! :)
> 
> Comments always make me extremely happy! ❤

_Pain._ That’s all his mind records. Pain. Not a temporary pain, no, but a vicious, insidious pain; one of these pains that remains, that clings. A pain that settles without anyone really realizing it, that devours. It resounds daily in his head, against his temples, in his chest and echoes in his heart. It’s an ugly pain, often jealous, bad. He can’t get rid of it. It’s too late. The pain of love has encrusted, it no longer leaves. Its head turns, it poisons it, kills it. It suffocates, it drowns. Every smile of Jimmy is a dagger, an insult. Every laugh is a shot, a torpedo. Every gesture is a threat, a finality.

Pain is not always victorious. Sometimes it fades, replaced by the spark of joy. Almost as devastating. They have the same effect on him. It is a consuming joy, euphoric. A puff of oxygen that makes his breath erratic, irregular, as if his chest threatened to explode at every moment, too small to contain such great happiness. They are butterflies in the belly whose wings fight, struggle. And then every smile, every laugh, every move of Jimmy becomes a drug. Again. He needs more. _Again_.

Thomas is lost. He no longer knows what he wants, what he hopes, what he expects. He would like nothing. Hope nothing. Expect nothing. But that would be false. A decoy. A way of covering one’s face. The incisive fangs of love are implanted in one’s mind, in one’s veins. They tear and tear his skin. He dies. He agonizes in silence - for to whom to entrust this misfortune? Everything is contained there, in his head, in his chest. Every little gesture, every little furtive glance, every little smile is a spark, a hope quickly repulsed, suffocated, crushed. You have to feel nothing, expect nothing. No waiting, no disappointment. Jimmy was clear and Thomas respects his decision. He even understands it.

Yet… Yet he often dreams of it. He dreams of holding those hands in his own hands. Of putting his hand on that cheek. To pass his fingers over that arrogant mouth. To play with those blond curls. To squeeze that body against his. To place his lips on this welcoming skin. He dreams of being able to say sweet words to him. Kindness that only he would be entitled to expect, to receive. He dreams of taking his hand in secret under the table, of sharing this taboo, of braver it, together.  
Above all, not to be alone.

Loneliness tears him apart. Consumes him. What future for him?

He does not dream only of Jimmy. Awake sometimes, he wonders what the end would represent. A definitive end, without return. He would close his eyes, fall asleep and no longer have to think about the future, about the weight of a life that doesn’t really make sense. There would be no one to mourn or regret it. Not even Jimmy. He’s young. Friend or not, he would move on. Jimmy is like that. Someone who lives without ties, the embarrassment of choice to make a place for himself. Someone who has the time, especially. The time to live. So, wouldn't be a relief to give up everything ? 

It’s late. Everybody has left the office. Thomas is crushing his cigarette. He is alone but the places do not need to be deserted for this sensation to him. Loneliness brings pain again. He inhales a little air before lowering his head. His head is lost in his hands. The lights are out, the darkness conceals the tears that he feels rolling on his cheeks. His silhouette is only a shadow that mingles with the other shadows, the shoulders shaken with bitter, silent sobs.

“Mr. Barrow?”

Thomas jumps at the very moment the light comes on. He raises his head, quickly wipes his eyes.

“What are you doing in the dark?” Jimmy’s voice doesn’t pretend to be surprised, it really is.  
Thomas clears his throat but his voice is broken when he speaks:  
“It seems that the dark helps to think.”  
“I’ve always been told that the dark brings bad thoughts. You should sleep at this hour."

Jimmy approaches him. Thomas feels his presence but he does not dare to turn his head. He just takes a new cigarette to occupy his hands. The feet of the chair next to him squeaks on the floor. _Go away, Jimmy. Please. Please._

“Are you alright, Mr. Barrow?”

Thomas briefly closes his eyes. He feels his defenses broken, broken down. 

"Sure," he says. "I'm the one to be asking you what you’re doing here at this hour."  
"Ah! I was only…"

The silence stretches. Thomas regains his composure. He turns his head towards Jimmy. He is in his pajamas, looks tired and also... Worried? Thomas frowns. Why would he? His fingers are waving as he tries to light his cigarette. He feels Jimmy’s hand resting on his own. His skin is fresh.

“Only…?” Thomas hurries him and tries to ignore the skin against his.  
“You weren’t in your room, so…”  
“You were looking for me?”

Jimmy withdraws his hand. Thomas breathes again. He fights against pain, against joy, against fear. The screams in his head are contradictory. He’d like to run away. Yell at Jimmy. Shake him up. But he doesn’t do any of that. He remains motionless and ends up lighting his cigarette while waiting for an answer. The seconds stretch before Jimmy ends up planting his eyes in his own; in his gaze shines a glimmer of challenge.

“Maybe, yes.”

Thomas raises an eyebrow. He still says nothing. What to say? The glimmer of hope consumes his chest and will leave him in agony once extinguished.

“So, what were you doing in the dark?”  
"I told you. I was thinking," replied Thomas. He inhales a volute of smoke that surrounds them both. Jimmy doesn’t blink.  
“Of what?”

Silence, again. A weapon of defense when one is not free to speak, when one must silence what one would like to shout. The howl does not pass over the lips. It is mute. Thomas lowers his head. Shakes it slightly.  
Once again, Jimmy’s hand is on his, on his lap. Thomas freezes. He doesn’t even dare to breathe while Jimmy approaches him. Thomas closes his eyes. He is only aware of his tears when one of them clings to the tip of his chin.

Then a stealthy movement. So stealthy that Thomas feels like he’s still dreaming, or imagining. Jimmy approaches his face. Thomas feels his breath against his cheek, his warmth. A kiss lands near his nose, just under his right eye. A touch of lips, scarcely, that comes to collect a tear.  
Thomas blinks several times, stunned. He straightens his head. Jimmy does not look at him but he did not get up to leave.

“You’re not alone anymore, Thomas. If you’re a friend, you can cry in front of me. In the light. If you want. I don’t mind.”

Thomas doesn’t know what to say. He just looks at Jimmy as if the divine light had passed through him. It is neither joy, nor pain, nor love that moves his chest. It is a sudden comfort, a calming which he has never really known. A welcome, an acceptance. A very light smile stretches Thomas' lips. He does not answer, words are not necessary. He just crushes his cigarette and puts a hand on Jimmy’s arm, squeezes him with infinite sweetness.

What matters is not to be alone anymore. Or to find someone as lonely as you are to be alone together.


End file.
